


Oh you're mad, sugar sweet

by blackkat



Series: useless porn scraps [22]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Butt Plugs, Is that a thing, Jealousy, M/M, PWP, Porn With Background Plot??, Rimming, Sex Toys Under Clothing, Teasing, Time Travel, Voyeurism, well now it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 07:42:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14100624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: Of all the wonderful things to come out of peace talks, Tobirama relishes Izuna's jealousy the most.





	Oh you're mad, sugar sweet

Of all the wonderful things to come out of peace talks, Tobirama relishes Izuna's jealousy the most.

He makes sure they’re entirely within sight of Izuna, no other groups blocking line of sight, and pulls his partner one step closer, until their sides are pressed together. Scandalous, if the narrow look one of the elders shoots him is anything to go by, but Tobirama doesn’t give a damn. “You look beautiful tonight,” he tells Orochimaru instead, curls his fingers over the pale hand where it rests on his arm, and carefully steadies Orochimaru when an incautious step makes him falter.

“You are a wicked man,” Orochimaru tells him, but there's a flush high up on pale cheeks, his breath coming just a little more unsteadily than it should. The golden eyes that first caught Tobirama’s attention when Orochimaru approached him in the town are heavy-lidded, but still sharp, and his composure is impressive.

“A high compliment, given the source,” Tobirama tells him, smirking, and when Orochimaru’s grip goes white-knuckled on his wrist he stops, wrapping an arm around his waist and leaning in. “Are you all right?”

Orochimaru gives him a vicious look just barely veiled by long lashes, and says, “I'm feeling a little light-headed, that’s all. Forgive me.”

The way his fingernails dig into Tobirama’s haori gives lie to the polite request, and Tobirama’s smirk doesn’t waver. He presses his hand to Orochimaru’s hip, feels the tension that bleeds through him, and casts a covert glance at Izuna. He’s watching them, eyes on the slim figure at Tobirama’s side and eyes narrowed.

A crush, Hashirama calls it dismissively. An infatuation, Madara likes to say wearily. And maybe it counts as both, but Tobirama calls it _covetousness_. Izuna wants what’s his, and Tobirama is certainly not above taunting him with it. They might nominally be allies, but some rivalries are very hard to bury.

“Perhaps a walk in the forest will help,” he suggests, and Orochimaru’s eyes dart up to him with something like wariness mixed with relief. Tobirama raises a brow at him, a definite challenge, and gets a droll expression in return.

“A walk sounds perfect, thank you,” Orochimaru says lightly, and Tobirama is likely the only one who can hear the rasp in his voice.

With a sense of satisfaction, Tobirama presses him into motion, guides him towards the closest garden gate and then out into the forest. They're in Hatake Clan lands for the talks, and the Hatake are a small enough family that they haven’t turned their home into a fortress the way the Senju and Uchiha have. The trees start just beyond the edges of the complex, and Tobirama guides Orochimaru towards a small stream he remembers from their arrival.

Now that they're away from the delegates, Orochimaru isn't trying quite so hard to keep his composure, though Tobirama still likely couldn’t tell there was anything different about him without familiarity. But he’s taking careful steps, a little smoother than normal, and his flush is spreading, touching ivory skin with color. He’s beautiful in the evening light, the graceful line of his neck left clear by his upswept hair, deep plum tomesode perfectly arranged and patterned with golden leaves and leaning maples.

Somehow, though, Tobirama can't help but prefer the way he looked before they left the Senju compound, in a messy yukata with his hair in a bun and ink smeared across his cheek. Can't help but think the Orochimaru who argues theory with him and can match him in every way is far superior to the perfectly made-up and comported creature leaning on his arm right now. Orochimaru putting on masks, pretending that he cares about what Madara and Hashirama talk about, is entertaining, but hardly _real_.

It’s one of the reasons Tobirama couldn’t bring himself to feel sympathy for Izuna's infatuation, even if he was somehow inspired to try. Izuna loves the image he’s created of Orochimaru, the beauty on Tobirama’s arm; he can't know the way Orochimaru looks in a spar, vicious and deadly and streaked with blood, or the way he looks when he’s caught up in his research, distracted and snappish and utterly brilliant.

“We’re going to miss the meeting over trade routes,” Orochimaru points out, but not like he cares.

Tobirama scoffs, because neither of them has any interest in such things, and they hardly _need_ to attend. Hashirama and Madara will be there, and Mito will be the power in the room; there's no need for more bodies simply taking up space in the room. “Do you really want to sit through several hours of tedious negotiations?” he asks, lets his hand slide to press deliberately against the small of Orochimaru’s back.

He can clearly feel the shiver Orochimaru gives, hear the hitch of his breath. Smirks, just a little sharper, and with the sound of the river in his ears he turns, catching Orochimaru by the shoulder and shoving him back up against a tree. Orochimaru jolts as he hits it, lashes out, but Tobirama blocks the blow, leans in to kiss him, and Orochimaru doesn’t resist, arches up into his hands immediately.

“You’ve been so careful all evening,” he murmurs as they break apart, slides his lips across a flushed cheek and right to Orochimaru’s ear. The earrings he’s wearing are silver, carefully wrought, each one in the shape of Tobirama’s Hiraishin marking, and it makes something curl, darkly satisfied, in Tobirama’s chest that Orochimaru agreed to wear them. It’s as much a mark of the union as anything, that Orochimaru will bear another’s symbol.

He’s changed from the broken, furious teenager Tobirama first met on a mission, collapsed on his knees with a crystal necklace clutched in one hand, a small body in his arms. Still tight-lipped about his past, but Tobirama doesn’t care. Hasn’t cared for a very long time.

“We had a wager, didn’t we?” Orochimaru retorts, but it’s breathless, and he twists in Tobirama’s grasp, pushing into the weight of his body.

Tobirama hums, makes it thoughtful as he presses his nose into that night-dark hair. “We did. And the sun is setting now, isn't it? I believe that means you won.”

The sound of relief that slips out of Orochimaru’s mouth is entirely gratifying.

Taking a breath to steady himself, Tobirama pulls back, takes three steps away until he’s not so tempted to touch. Orochimaru makes a glorious image in the twilight, still leaning back against the tree, hair coming loose, tomesode just slightly rumpled. It’s captivating, but there's another sight Tobirama wants to see more.

“Undress,” he says, orders, and it’s a rasp in his throat, thick with want.

Orochimaru casts him a sly, teasing look from beneath his lashes, but his hands move quickly as he reaches for the obi-age. So many heavy layers, Tobirama think with faint regret, watching as Orochimaru removes each of them, folding them carefully and draping them over a branch of the tree to join Tobirama’s own kimono and hakama as he removes them. It makes this more complicated than it might otherwise be, but the anticipation is worth it as each inch of skin is revealed.

Finally, the slip drops away, and Orochimaru steps out of it without care, taking a swaying pace towards Tobirama. “Acceptable?” he purrs.

Tobirama’s mouth is dry, and he can't tear his eyes away from Orochimaru’s body, the willowy lines of him against the backdrop of the forest. Reaching out, he steps into him, cups his cheek in one hand and kisses him deeply, then pulls the kanzashi from Orochimaru’s hair, letting it tumble down around his shoulders like a spill of ink.

“Perfect,” he murmurs, gets his hands on Orochimaru’s hips, and lets his hands skim back over his skin to cup his ass.

Orochimaru tenses, breath catching, and Tobirama can't wait another second. He turns Orochimaru, tips him forward until he’s falling, spilling to his knees and catching himself on a moss-covered stone at the edge of the stream. Tobirama follows him down, kneeling between his thighs and pressing his ass cheeks apart.

The thick black plug nestled inside of him is enough to stop Tobirama’s lungs entirely, even though he’s the one who put it there.

Running his finger around the stretched rim of Orochimaru’s hole, Tobirama hums. “I’d forgotten how large it was,” he says mildly. “To think you’ve been walking around with this inside of you all day. It’s impressive.”

Orochimaru shudders, makes a sound that’s bitten-off and breathless. His hands are white-knuckled where they're gripping the rock, and his head is bowed. “Are you going to waste time just looking?” he demands, and it would be waspish if it wasn’t so desperate.

“Admiring your endurance is never wasted time,” Tobirama tells him smugly, presses his thumb to the base of the plug and savors the ragged cry it pulls from Orochimaru’s throat. “The whole time you were speaking with Madara about possible defenses, all I could think of was the fact that you were wearing this. That I could have bent you over in a quiet corner, fucked you, and then slid it back in with no one the wiser.”

Orochimaru practically sobs, though whether at the words or the way Tobirama is wiggling the plug it’s hard to tell. He shoves back, spreads his legs, and Tobirama chuckles, smoothing his free hand over that slender back and then dragging his fingernails back down to watch red lines bloom. It makes Orochimaru shiver and gasp, and Tobirama leans in, lays a kiss on the small of his back, and then murmurs, “Shall we?”

A rough, broken sound, and Orochimaru catches his breath, braces himself. “Fuck me,” he orders, turning his head enough to stare at Tobirama with narrowed golden eyes. “Fuck me _now_.”

Tobirama raises a brow. “Are you sure?” he asks, lets his gaze flicker just briefly to the forest around them. Orochimaru is too good a ninja to have missed their uninvited guest.

A smirk slides across Orochimaru’s face, and he tips his head up. Agreeably, Tobirama leans in to kiss him, tangling their tongues, and against his lips Orochimaru murmurs, “Let him watch, if he wants to so badly.”

Truly, _truly_ Tobirama made the best possible decision when he took this man as his husband.

He kisses Orochimaru again, harder this time, then pushes him down and pulls his hips up. Gets his fingers on the plug and twists it, wrings a startled sound from Orochimaru and pulls it all the way out in one motion. Orochimaru cries out, body jerking, and Tobirama breathes out, pressing his mouth to that stretched hole and sliding his tongue in, tasting lube and come and heat. Orochimaru gasps, high and sharp, clenches down on him, and Tobirama hums just to make him whimper.

“All of you is mine,” he murmurs, turning his head to press his mouth to the curve of Orochimaru’s hip.

Orochimaru laughs, bare and rough. “Are you going to prove it?” he challenges slyly, quietly that no one else will hear it.

“Gladly,” Tobirama tells him, covering him and bracing his hands on Orochimaru’s ribs. “Keeping you like this certainly cuts down on the preparation time,” he murmurs, and nips at the pale curve of Orochimaru’s throat.

Orochimaru laughs, tilting his head to look back at Tobirama. “The novelty would wear off rather quickly,” he retorts. “I think I’ll keep it as a reward for good behavior. Or perhaps a surprise.”

Tobirama growls, thinking of it, of Orochimaru coming to him like this, ready for him to take. “Whenever you like,” he says, then pushes forward. Orochimaru takes his cock with a cry, but his body gives easily, slick and perfectly hot. Groaning, Tobirama slides as deep as he can, presses his forehead to Orochimaru’s spine as he tries to hang on to his control. Too long thinking about this, too many times looking over to see Izuna watching Orochimaru with that dark edge of desire.

Izuna learned that Tobirama had something and decided he wanted it, but Orochimaru makes up his own mind, and he’s never given Izuna a second look.

“Incredible,” he murmurs into Orochimaru’s skin, press his lips to one of the fading red lines he left there. Orochimaru’s body is clenching around him, trying to pull him in deeper, and the velvety heat of him is enough to shatter Tobirama’s self-control entirely. He hitches his hips up in a sharp thrust, forces a high, shocked sound from Orochimaru’s throat, and drags him back down onto his cock again.

“He must be watching you,” he growls in Orochimaru’s ear, too good a sensor not to recognize the faint impression of someone trying to hide their presence close by. “Hard and wanting and alone with his hand.”

“Watching _us_ ,” Orochimaru gets out, hot and sly. He braces his elbows underneath himself, sinks down on Tobirama’s cock and then rises up again, until only the head is still in him. Then, slowly, deliberately, he pushes back, takes it all the way in with a breathy moan. Tobirama mutters a curse, but he wraps Orochimaru’s hair around his first, tugs his head back just enough for him to feel it, and sits back on his haunches, dragging Orochimaru down into his lap.

“Fuck yourself on my cock,” he orders, and Orochimaru groans. Spreads his legs wider, thighs trembling as he rocks back, forearms braced on the stone, and that tight heat swallowing his shaft is enough to make Tobirama tip his head back, his rough sound of pleasure loud in the air.

With a quiet gasp, Orochimaru pulls himself up again, Tobirama’s grip on his hair making his back curve as he leans into the pull. The angle is perfect, because as he slides back down he moans, that particular almost shocked sound he makes when Tobirama finds the right spot. Tobirama’s cock slides deep, and Tobirama can't help but slide his free hand over Orochimaru’s ass, parting his cheeks to watch his shaft disappear into that slicked hole. It sounds wet, and he groans at that, at the memory of this morning in their rooms, taking Orochimaru in the hot spring and then sliding the plug into him. He dressed in his formal clothes right after, and Tobirama had relished looking at him, knowing exactly what was underneath all the heavy layers.

He’s not going to last long, like this. It’s a beautiful tease, but it isn’t enough. He wants to make Orochimaru _scream_ , and the pretty, breathy noises he’s making right now are just driving that need higher.

Like he can hear the thought, Orochimaru’s next thrust catches on a cry, and he collapses back into Tobirama’s lap, taking his cock to the root. Whimpers, body shuddering, and Tobirama decides that’s enough. Shoves forward, twists them to topple Orochimaru onto the grass on his hands and knees, and starts fucking him in earnest, driving in hard enough to make Orochimaru shout. His body is like a vise around Tobirama’s cock, hot and perfect, and his own cock is bobbing between his legs. Tobirama grunts as he bottoms out, grinds in with a roll of his hips for the wrecked wail it gets him, and hopes that Izuna is enjoying his view. It’s the last time he’s ever going to see anything of the sort, but Tobirama is more than willing to rub what he can't have in his face. Clearly Orochimaru doesn’t mind all that much, either.

“Beautiful,” he hisses in Orochimaru’s ear, means it with every ounce of certainty he has. “We should go out on a mission soon. I want to see you covered in blood again.”

Orochimaru gives a breathy laugh, and the tight hold he has on his chakra slips as Tobirama rams into him again. With a loud cry he lurches forward, fingers tearing at the grass, and just for a moment that deadly chakra fills the air, heady and powerful, as dangerous as a striking snake. It makes Tobirama shiver, sends the heat in his blood careening several notches higher, and he shoves into Orochimaru, feels that power heavy against his skin as he gets a hand around Orochimaru’s cock.

The tight, desperate clutch of muscles as Orochimaru comes from a single touch is more than enough to tumble Tobirama right over the edge after him. Tobirama’s groan echoes Orochimaru’s cry, and he stays where he is for a long moment, slumped over Orochimaru’s back as the other man pants for breath beneath him.

Carefully, gently, Tobirama braces Orochimaru’s hips, pulls his cock out and stops Orochimaru’s attempt to sit up with a hand on his shoulder. He ignores the raised brow Orochimaru shoots him, reaching for the abandoned plug.

“Once more?” he asks, smirking, as he dangles it in front of Orochimaru.

Orochimaru laughs, low and breathless. “It would be a shame to get the kimono dirty,” he says, but his eyes are teasing, hot gold in the shadows.

As soon as they get back to their rooms, Tobirama is going to have him again, he thinks, breathing out deliberately. Stroking Orochimaru’s ass, he eases the narrow end back into him, pushes until the flared head slips past the ring of muscle, and then slides it home. Beneath his hands, Orochimaru shudders, making a bitten-off sound, and Tobirama catches his shoulders, easing him up and back to curl into his lap.

“Easy,” he murmurs against dark hair. “Take a moment.”

He can see Orochimaru’s throat working, feel the minute shifts of his hips as the plug settles. There's a long pause, then a nod, and Orochimaru pushes up slightly. Tipping his head, he leans in, and Tobirama takes the kiss that’s offered, makes it deep and intent but also gentle. A hand stroked down Orochimaru’s side makes him shiver, but that could be more cool night air than overstimulation—autumn is approaching swiftly, and there’s a breeze picking up.

“You’ll have to help me redress,” Orochimaru says, and from that tone, if Tobirama wasn’t looking at him directly, couldn’t see the scratches on his back and the slickness between his thighs, the sweat on his skin, he might think nothing had happened between them at all. Orochimaru smooths his hair back from his face, but before he can try to rise himself, Tobirama gets an arm around his waist and stands, pulling Orochimaru to his feet.

“I believe I’ll be able to endure the hardship,” he says dryly, but when Orochimaru’s first step wobbles he changes his mind. “Or perhaps there’s a more direct route.”

Orochimaru casts a glance back, still clad only in the darkness of his own hair and the veil of the shadows. “Oh?” he drawls, a slender brow rising, and Tobirama takes three long strides to him, wraps him up in his arms and kisses him hard. Orochimaru’s fingers curl into this hair, tugging just a little, and he breathes out a low laugh as they separate.

“Still not enough for you, Tobirama?” he taunts.

“Not quite yet,” Tobirama tells him, smiling a little, and it’s one of the greatest lies he’s ever told. “I'm sure I’ll get bored of you soon enough.”

Orochimaru snorts. “Be sure you give me warning so I can make off with all of our notes in an appropriately dramatic fashion,” he says dryly, then crouches to collect the more hastily discarded nagajuban and pulls it over his shoulders.

Tobirama strokes his fingers across the cloth as it settles over Orochimaru’s hip, tracing the golden leaf pattern that’s repeated from the outer robe. “At least ten minutes in advance,” he promises, and then says, “I left my kunai in our rooms.”

“Misusing your shinobi skills?” Orochimaru asks, but that smirk is full of a sly dare.

Amused by the blatant hypocrisy, Tobirama raises a brow in return, then cups Orochimaru’s face in his hands and kisses him again, light and lingering. “Only the best for you,” he murmurs.

“Tell me that _after_ you stop stealing all of my pens,” Orochimaru tells him, and Tobirama chuckles, wraps his arm around his waist, and stretches his chakra out. Orochimaru’s tomesode isn't marked with the Hiraishin seal, but Orochimaru has been wearing it for long enough that his chakra lingers on the cloth, and it’s easy enough for Tobirama to bring it along as he teleports them in a flash of light.

As the world reforms around them, Orochimaru steps away, letting the robe fall from his shoulders. “You know,” he says, in the absent tone that means he’s fucking with Tobirama, “the other way to get Izuna over his little fit would be to invite him for a threesome.”

Tobirama gags a little, makes a face that he hopes conveys even a _fraction_ of his disgust at the idea. “I would not allow that _Uchiha_ in my bed,” he spits. “And I doubt even your charms could tempt him into any sort of bed with _me_ in it.”

Orochimaru chuckles, lazy but wicked, and lowers himself onto their bed with a grace that almost hides the care he uses not to jar his body. “Really?” he asks lightly, sweeping a glance from Tobirama’s head to his toes and then back up again. In no way does Tobirama trust that look. “Because I was fairly certain that his jealousy extends to both of us equally, at this point.”

Tobirama has absolutely no idea what to do with this information.

(He does, however, know what to do with the way Orochimaru is laughing at him. And if Orochimaru enjoys being pinned to the bed and kissed breathless, well. An unintentional side effect, that’s all.)


End file.
